


The Unfortunate Mixture of Pete Wentz and Choosing the Right Window

by orphan_account



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, mikey doesn't really mind, pete's kind of an idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 02:38:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4373987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It must be those noodle legs, Pete thought grumpily. Never trust a man with noodle legs. <br/>or <br/>The one where Pete gets drunk and attempts to serenade his girlfriend, but his ability to find her apartment is significantly lessened</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Unfortunate Mixture of Pete Wentz and Choosing the Right Window

**Author's Note:**

> This is for my little sister, I probably never would have written it otherwise

Pete was drunk. 

Okay, that may have been an understatement. He was smashed, hammered, absolutely plastered. He slowed in his march down the deserted street in contemplation. How many more words could he think of for being drunk? Would that sober him? Fuck it, did he even want to be sober? Sober was for trying to decipher his own lyrics and making coffee; neither of which he believed he was doing. 

He continued to amble forwards with what he believed was a purpose, although he couldn’t really be sure because about 15 minutes ago all these streets had started to blend together and he really didn’t want to call Patrick drunk for the third time this week asking to be taken home. You were never too drunk to hear the disappointment in Patrick’s tone, at least not if your name was Pete Wentz. 

That was when he stumbled on the reason for his 2 am roaming. Literally. He tripped over the curb in front of an apartment building, and when he looked up, he let out a triumphant laugh. He had a girlfriend! But why was he here. Did he need more printer paper? Was there a book he needed to return? Then an idea struck him. Screw printer paper, if late Saturday nights aren’t a time for serenading, then he’s about to make them be. 

He walked slowly to the right, squinting at the windows of the small, identical apartments. Did he actually know which one was hers? Shit. But he came across a window that suddenly felt right, and he picked up pebbles from the gravel path below him and threw them with surprisingly accurate aim at the second floor window. Just as Pete began to get impatient the window cracked open and a head peeked out. 

“Do I know you?” the voice was quiet, sleep addled. 

Pete took this as his queue. With a wide grin he threw his head back, going into an absolutely stunning rendition of My Heart Will Go On. 

About one phrase in, the person at the window squeaked indignantly. “Dude what the hell is going on.” 

And maybe Pete really was drunk because last time he checked his girlfriend’s voice really wasn’t that low. Or attractive. But he rolled with it. Because that’s what Pete did. “Babe. Baby. You know I love you. Or maybe I don’t I cant remember. But! Come on you know you love me please let me sing for you?” He was swaying on his feet now, his words muddled. “Better idea! Let me up there. Let me see you I’ve been without my sunshine for too long.” 

Pete thought he heard someone utter an exasperated Jesus Christ but he plowed on. “Please? Please baby I need to see you I need-“ he promptly abandoned that and started to sing again, with much passion and maybe a bit too much volume. Just as he really reached his stride he heard the voice from the window again. 

“Okay! Okay. Whatever to make you stop with that noise, you’re going to kill someone man. Just. Go to the door and I’ll buzz you up, yeah?” Pete grinned. The silhouette disappeared and Pete began the surprisingly difficult treck of about 30 feet to the front steps. He heard the tell tale noise of the buzzer that would have really made him wince in a few hours, but now he was still flying high. He knew he should have utilized his drunk singing voice before now. Chick magnet for sure. 

He hummed his way up the world’s longest flight of stairs, contemplating whether or not he’d get laid tonight. He wasn’t too bothered really because at the same time he was measuring the merit of red zinnias versus calla lilies. When he reached his destination, Pete stopped. Shit. He’d forgotten how damn long this hallway was. He stood there for a few minutes, squinting at the doorways, as if the x ray vision he insisted he had when he was nine was finally going to reveal itself. Finally, just as he had resigned himself to knocking on every door until he vaguely recognized someone or maybe just found someone fuck able, a door creaked open down the hallway. 

Pete practically ran to it, and dove at the person holding it open. He wrapped his arms around them, nuzzling into their chest. He let out a satisfied hum, stroking his fingers down their back. His brain came about as online as it was able in his current state, informing him that apparently his girlfriend had grown half a foot, cut her hair, and turned into the living version of a string bean. Also started to smell really fucking good. 

He let himself enjoy that for a few seconds. Nodding his head subtly. Why question it? Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. But now said string bean was pulling away from him, making a sound half between a laugh and spluttering. It was all Pete could do not to whine, and he’s not sure if he restrained himself. “No no please? I don’t want you to go string bean. You smell so much nicer than my girlfriend.” String bean was holding him at arm’s length, finally letting Pete focus on his face. “Shit man can you be my girlfriend? Oh my god those cheekbones.” Pete tried to bring up a hand to caress his face but missed, poking him in the nose. 

String bean startled, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. Pete was going to die. This world was too much. “Logistically I think that would be a little hard. I don’t identify as a girl, sorry.” 

Pete grinned wolfishly. “I don’t care what you are. You’re hot, and you smell good. String bean, let me-“ Pete lurched forward. Damn his motor skills. 

“Alright first off? It’s Mikey, not string bean.” Mikey took both of Pete’s shoulders “And secondly, you’re really really drunk, man. Like, hitting on a plant for two hours drunk because you thought it looked curvy and you didn’t bother to look for a face because ‘hey those look like tits’.” Pete snorted. “Don’t ask how I know what that’s like. But anyways, you came to look for someone to fuck, and I’m here, so you're making advances. I think it would be best if you got to bed kiddo.” 

Mikey started to guide him gingerly to a couch in the next room and Pete began to babble. “Mikey. Mikes. Mike. Michael. That sounds so pretty! It’s not as pretty as you though. I don’t want to fuck just anyone this was fate I swear! I was meant to be here.” Mikey set him down on the couch and he began to outright pout. “No you can’t go! I need you here Mikey. I’m Pete by the way! Nice to meet you!” He held out his hand to shake with an outright grin on his face. Mikey looked suspicious, as if there might be a joke buzzer hidden in Pete’s sleeve. He took his hand. 

“Nice to meet- fuck!” Pete had pulled him in by the arm, dragging him until he lay on top of Pete. Pete smirked as he wrapped his legs around Mikey’s flailing form. When Mikey stopped twisting in favor of simply scowling, their faces were inches apart. 

“Hey,” Pete whispered. Mikey looked at him and decisively said, “Bye!” Somehow wriggling out of Pete’s boa constrictor-like hold. It must be those noodle legs, Pete thought grumpily. Never trust a man with noodle legs. 

Mikey stood over him, arms crossed, one eyebrow perfectly raised. “Are you done now?” Pete raised an eyebrow back, “Baby, I’m never done.” 

Mikey turned his eyes heavenwards, as if asking the lord for patience dealing with the tiny, unfairly attractive, drunk man currently lying on his couch. “Alright then. I’m going to bed and we’ll see if you’re less horny in the morning.”   
 “Doubt it” 

“And Pete?” Mikey said over his shoulder, “Just a tip if you’re expecting this to go anywhere, don’t call me baby. I’m not into that.” And with that he was gone, and Pete was left to wonder if he should throw pebbles at strangers windows more often if they were all going to be this infuriating and attractive. As he drifted off, he wondered if Romeo Had It All Wrong With Going To Juliet’s Window Sober was a passable song title. 

Pete woke to Mikey’s hand hovering a few inches over his cheek, his face looking pained and a bit confused. When Mikey saw his eyes flutter open, his own filled with relief. “Oh good. I wasn’t sure about the etiquette of waking up some guy who crashed on your couch because he thought you were his girlfriend.” He shrugged noncommittally. “I guess now we’ll never know.” 

Pete groaned internally. Because of course Mikey was even more attractive in the daylight. He really knew how to do drunken nights. Embarrass yourself in front of a hot guy so that he can probably never look at you right again. Good going Pete. He realized he’d been staring when Mikey started to shuffle-sway subtly, his nose scrunched slightly. Pete tried to think of something to say beyond the thought of holy fuck I’m so gay that was currently running rampant. 

“Uh. Sorry for everything.” Pete decided was a safe bet. It didn’t outright say please let me suck on your face until I forget how to breathe but it also didn’t say fuck off with your pale complexion and stupidly nice lips and pornographic neck. He was truly a genius. 

“It’s okay. I get that shit can get a little crazy when you’re drunk.” Mikey’s mouth quirked up in a smile. “I’m just glad I didn’t let you do anything you’d regret” 

“If you’re talking about fucking you I think I’d be out of my mind to regret that.” Pete very nearly slapped himself.

“Uh. Well. Girlfriend?” Pete looked at him uncomprehendingly. “The whole reason you’re here in the first place?”

Pete closed his eyes, trying to remember. Was he dating anyone? There had been Brenda, then Jacob, then Amy, then… 

“Fuck.” Pete let out a surprised laugh. Mikey tilted his head at him, and Pete totally did not let his eyes run up and down the line of his neck. Not for a second. “I almost went and serenaded my ex!” 

“Do you still have feelings for her or something?” Mikey looked bemused. 

“Not in the slightest. Wow! You’re my savior. I was the one who broke it off with her, christ. I guess I just wanted to have somewhere to show off my intoxicated singing range to.” Mikey groaned at that. 

“Don’t even remind me.” They stood in comfortable silence for a while, which was really not something Pete was used to. 

“So.” Pete coughed, uncharacteristically nervous. “This is probably an insanely unconventional, and really fucking creepy on my part, way to pick someone up but hey. That’s kind of who I am. And you’re too attractive and your half smiles are adorable and I want to see if you’re capable of grinning and you warded off my drunk advances. So Mikey- hey what’s your last name?” 

“Way.” 

“Mikey Way. Do me the honor of letting me take you to a movie and maybe making out in the back of the theater if you’re into it.”   “Depends.” Mikey’s hand was barely swinging at his side, and his eyes were lit up in a way that predicted a pretty good future as far as Pete was concerned. 

“On what?” 

“As totally awesome as making out with you sounds, I’m not going to miss the new X-men for it. So. Any movie but that.”   
 Pete clutched his chest, mouth agape in mock horror. “Mikey, you offend me! I wouldn’t dream of missing the homoerotic subtext between Magneto and Professor X.” 

Mikey punched him in the arm, still smiling. “Shut the fuck up.” 

Pete made eye contact with Mikey, his gaze challenging. “Make me.” 

Mikey shrugged. “If you insist.”   
 And then Pete was crowded against the wall and Mikey’s hand was stroking down his neck while the other one played with his collar, absently. He just stayed there, his body in Pete’s space, his face both too close and too far from Pete’s own, and just when he opened his mouth to complain, because that’s what Pete Wentz does when there’s a hot guy torturing him in an almost kiss, he really shuts him up. And Pete couldn’t be happier.


End file.
